A Writing Prompt for Doodlehoose 2

Okay so I don’t know exactly where this came from, but i started doodling and my wife said it looked like an elf and so I went with that. I call it, “The Walk.” I think Doodlehoose Too should use it as a writing prompt.

2 Responses to A Writing Prompt for Doodlehoose 2

“Tell me again, what it is you say you saw.”
“You’re not ever gonna believe me.”

Herold was right, Greg wasn’t ever going to believe him. Soaking wet and reeking of gin, he was sitting in the middle of the police station trying to relight his mashed cigar. Herold was a mess.

“Just run it back once more, alright?” said Greg.
“It was some sort of wizard, but like a lady wizard.” said Herold.
“A witch?”
“Not a witch, cause witches have like broomsticks and hats and are old. This lady wasn’t old, she was young and beautiful with like this deep purple velvety cloak and a wizard’s staff.”

Greg took the mashed cigar from Herold’s hand, dropped it in the waste bin. He gave the older gentleman his most conciliatory smile, slid a hot cup of coffee across the desk.

“You saw a lady wizard in the woods behind Ms. Latchford’s place?” said Greg.
“No, it was behind the old elementary school.” replied Harold.
“Where I found you, was sitting on the side of the road next to Ms. Latchford’s.”

Herold thought for a moment.

“No, it was behind the school.” said Herold.
“And the lady wizard told you the bridge was gonna collapse?”
“Well yeah sorta, but not in those words.”

Herold took a sip of the hot brew, ran an unsteady hand through his oily beard. Sat up a little straighter in the cheap plastic chair.

“She said it more like, ‘the bridge between will surely fail.’”

The way Herold repeated the words was almost musical, half a song. He took another tentative sip.

“Herold. I think you probably just need to get yourself home and into bed.” said Greg.
“You think I’m drunk. You think I don’t know what I’m talking about.”
“I’m certain you’re drunk, but heres what I’m gonna do…”

Greg stood, stretched out a hand to help the man to his feet. Herold swayed gently, then listed hard to his right. Greg caught him before he could crash down onto the linoleum.

“I’ll drive you on home and while we’re out there, I’ll check out the bridge. Make sure everything’s secure. How’s that?”
“I ain’t crazy.” said Herold.
“I’m sure you’re not, but I don’t want you wandering around on your own anymore tonight.”

Loading Herold into the squad car wasn’t any trouble, the older man noticeably sobering once they’d gotten out into the crisp autumn evening.

“She said the thing about the bridge, then she pulled this hood up over her head and turned towards the old garage. Pug’s old place. You know Pug, don’t you?” said Herold from the backseat.
“I know Pug. Pug and my Dad went to school together.” said Greg.

They drove out from the station and turned onto the paved road. Passed the nearly empty trailer park and drove by the abandon bank, the abandon grocery, the abandon ammo shop. They turned off the pavement onto the road with the abandon elementary school.

“It was back behind there where I saw her.” said Herold.
“Yeah, but the bridge is a ways on down the road and you live a bit beyond that.”
“She had this like glow about her. Like this golden glow all around her. Like an angel.”
“What were you doing out here at this time of night anyway Herold?”

Herold didn’t answer, instead electing to stare off into the woods behind the school. Greg slowed a bit as they passed and then came to a stop when they finally reached the one lane bridge out beyond the playground.

Greg put the cruiser in park and flicked the high beams on, left the keys. No worries about Herold, cause the back doors couldn’t be opened from inside and the cage between would keep him out of the front. Greg took his heavy flashlight with him.

He heard her before he saw her.

– – –

“The bridge between will surely fail. The path will soon be blocked.”

She was every bit as beautiful as Herold had said she’d be, maybe more so. The gold belt that girdled her waist seemed to sparkle. The aura about her made the night darker where she stood.

“We dare not linger.” she said.

Greg gripped his flashlight tighter, felt the muscles in his neck stiffen. He was warm, warm all over, and his clothes suddenly seemed to cling to him, to irritate. He tried to stop his heart beating. To stop his mind swimming. To stop for a moment and think straight.

“We dare not linger.”

He moved a hand towards his weapon. She lowered her hood and stared direct into his eyes. Tipped the top of her staff in his direction. Her eyes produced their own light, soft purple.

“The bridge between will surely fail.”
“Miss you need to put down your weapon.” said Greg.

The egg at the tip of her staff pulsed, a heartbeat of warm yellow light, but it did not move. Her soft purple eyes did not waver.

“We dare not linger.”
“Miss please. Put down the stick.”

Greg flicked loss the leather strap, slid his snub nosed revolver from its holster. The woman took a step towards him. He meant to raise the weapon, but instead slipped it back into the holster. She took another step.

“Miss you need to stay where you are.”
“Your world will not survive. The bridge between will surely fail. We dare not linger.”

The dark around her grew darker. The golden light about her grew ever brighter. The beams of the old bridge groaned. The slow trickle of the stream stopped.

“Miss you need to stay put.”
“Your world will not survive.”

Her features shifted from calm disinterest, to solemn sadness, at last to mild irritation. The heartbeat of her staff continued unchanged.

“You’re a person of peace? You serve?” she said.
“Miss please. Put down the stick and stay where you are.”
“Then serve them. Save them.”

She pulled the hood over her head and turned away. Walked off, under the old bridge, into the woods. Towards the playground and the old abandon school. Greg stood watching.

“Serve them, save them. The bridge between will surely fail. You dare not linger.”